Lord Lift Me Out of The Night
by holygoof101
Summary: Time in the military and things he's experience have left Finn Hudson a changed man who just wants to forget as best he can. There's only one person that can can help him with that. A/U-ish future drabble-ish one shot.


A/N: Different, ambiguous, dark and twisty. You have been warned. Started off being sound tracked to A War in Your Bedroom by A Change of Pace and ended to Faded by The Afghan Whigs (8 minutes of amazingness). The latter being where the title comes from. Read, review, hopefully enjoy. I have a cheesecake to make now.

000

He wants to go back in time and kick his own ass because he didn't get it years ago. He didn't get it the day his mom told him the truth about his dad. He spent nights trying to figure out why. What could make someone turn to drugs like that? He didn't understand why having a wife and a child wasn't enough. He couldn't understand why that wasn't something worth living for no matter how bad everything else was. That was because back then it all seemed like enough. He had Rachel and she was special and amazing and she made him feel like he could be something special. And that was enough. So he really didn't get it. What could ever make a family not enough for a man to live for? In fact back then he would have insisted that was enough. That someone else, loving someone else could be enough.

Now he wants to go back and punch 18 year old him in the face for being so naïve. Because now he gets it. He gets why his dad did all the drugs. Why he did drugs until they killed him. There's a pain that comes with seeing things you can't un-see. A pain you just want to forget. Like you just want to be someone else for a few minutes and if you can't be someone else then you just want to forget. And there's only ever been one thing, one person, that's been capable of making him feel the way he wants to feel again.

The bar makes him nervous in a way a civilian wouldn't understand. Unless they were a cop. Then they might have a bit of understanding about why he can't sit with his back to the door, and he doesn't really like having his back turned to the people next to him either. That the reason he's playing this spin back and forth on the bar stool game with himself. It makes him look nervous, and suspicious, he can see that in the bartender's eyes as the man approaches him and offers him a drink. He is nervous, maybe he's not sure. It's been awhile since he's had to feel his nerves in a situation like this. So maybe he is a little nervous, he's not sure. But he sure as hell could use the drink he's being asked to order. And when it gets to him it comes in a small glass that's cold against his hand. That's something he never really had the chance to get used to and he doesn't want to give it chance to become something he is used to so he throws it back quickly and orders another. The second comes in the same kind of glass, with the same kind of cold. He holds the glass in his hand for a moment the way all the men in those old movies Rachel had made him watch did. He lets himself feel the cold and the condensation before he takes a small sip and the liquid burns his mouth before it mixes with his saliva and he swallows and makes a face as it goes down. It's a good sign to him. No one else would probably understand it, and his buddies would call him a pussy for making a face, but it's a good sign to him. The cold, the condensation against the slick glass, and the burn it all means he can still feel. It's a good sign to him. It's enough of a good sign to where he doesn't bother to feel or taste the next two doubles as they burn down his throat.

He knows she's going to be here tonight. He used his intel to find that out. Even if part his intel now is asking Kurt where Rachel usually goes on a night off, he still knows she's going to be here tonight. He can just feel it. There's a part of him that wishes he couldn't. There's a part of him that wishes he could just turn it off, the feelings, then he could just go about forgetting in some other way. He could find a new to forget. There's a part of him that wishes she wasn't the only thing that had ever made sense enough to where nothing else mattered.

He's still playing the swing back and forth on the barstool game when he finally swings towards the door as it opens and she's there. She's there and it's like fresh air and no air all at the same time. Half of him says wait until the doorway is cleared and run. The other half is there for a purpose because it knows what happens if he runs. If he runs, as soon as he gets out the door and alone it's just going to be a bunch of flashes of shit he's trying desperately to forget. Shit the run half of him said would go away if he was with Rachel. So he swings his stool back towards the bar and orders another drink. He doesn't care anymore who's beside him or who's coming into the bar. He knows who's standing there if he looks over his shoulder so he doesn't feel the need to watch his back. It's been a long time since he's felt that, that alone offers him a small bit of comfort.

His lips curl as his last glass of liquid courage is placed in front of him. He doesn't feel the burn sliding down his throat this time, because his entire body is on fire. The glass slams against the bar at the same time as he shoves himself off the stool. The steps he takes are quiet but stalking. An animal like skill he learned in the military. Be quiet, be silent, but lock in on your pray and move with purpose. His pray is standing with her back to him, near a table with people he assumes are her friends. He doesn't care about the people she's standing with; his eyes are locked into her. All he sees are images of her body, the hair on the back of his neck stands up as he imagines the feel of her fingers digging into his back before they move up to his neck. He's not bothering to envision any form of resistance from her because he knows how to deal with resistance. Even if he didn't she won't resist, it's one of those things he just knows.

"Rachel," he growls her name as he reaches to spin her around. There's a pause as she faces him.

"Finn," there shock in her eyes, and he can see them scanning and searching. She's trying to process; she's trying to come up with something to say. Something Rachel to say that would lead to endless talking he isn't interested in. So as soon as her lips part to speak her crushes his down against hers. Hard and recklessly. He doesn't want to give her time to have a thoughtful response he wants her to react. And she does because after a moment the resistance in her lips is gone and her fingers are tangling and pulling at his hair. There's no thought or resistance as still in their embrace they take steps towards the door.

One day he's going to wish he remembered the moments between the bar and her apartment. He knows one day he's going to long to remember the kisses and the heat and the passion. The moments when his mind was just blank and consumed by her. But while it's actually happening he doesn't care because all he knows in those moments is that she's still the same. She's still Rachel, and all he knows is she's still his. He doesn't care that invading her life this way for a selfish purpose is wrong. He doesn't care because they're closing her bedroom door and they're tearing off clothes like they haven't been this close in year. That's because they haven't. She's kissing his chest, her lips moving over his chest, the cold air against wetness being the only way he even knew they were there. It's all rushed and urgent like the moment may pass too soon. He tangled his hands in her hair and looks down as he kisses trail over his abdomen causing a sigh to fall from him and his eyes to slip closed. She's not letting him think. The same way he didn't want to let her think. Except the moment his eyes close, he can't fight it. He can't fight what flood forward. And he can't not remember that everything is different.

"I-" He shoves her away as the flashes come forward. It's all a mixtures in his mind. Flashes of who he was, her lips against his skin reminding him of the moments they'd shared together years ago. Moments that made him believe there was good in everything in the world. Flashes of how naïve he was. Flashes of innocence that concealed all the evil he didn't know he would see. Memories of the way she loved him, and the way he loved her. The way he still loved her. Wonderful moments in his mind interrupted by noise. And lights. And explosions. And things he couldn't unsee. Things even being with her in that moment couldn't make him forget. Even when all he wanted to do was get lost in those old memories and forget.

"I can't..." The words choke in his throat as he takes a harsh step back and reaches for his shirt. "I have to-" His words are hushed by a finger against his lips and a hand tightly gripping his.

"Shhhh."

She's looking up at him, with hand her fingers interlocking with his and holding on tightly as the other reaches up and traces over his lips. "It's okay." She whispers softly and she looks up to meet his eyes.

She can see it. She may not know everything, but she can see it. Everything he's seen. The pain, the things he wants to unsee, and the things he can't forget. She can see them in his eyes and he knows it. He knows it because he's never been able to hide from her. Even when he wanted to he just couldn't. And he can't now. She moves with their fingers still interlocked and he's pulled closer to the bed. Their stare is broken as her lips move. Kissing his chest once, twice, a third times as her lips slowly make their way up closer to his mouth where her fingers are still slowly tracing over under they're replaced by her lips. Lips that for a moment seem foreign until a familiar pattern forms. A pattern that continues as they fall onto the bed and they become lips that can finally make him forget.

Her hands move slowly and softly as they fumble to remove clothing. As they fumble to find the familiar that still exists. He can't remember what she said their last day together but he remembers this. The way it feels to be against hers, the sound she makes when his lips find the spot under her ear. The way her fingers press against his shoulder blades as he pushes insides her and the way the sig as he moves. The way in these moments there's never been anything but the two of them.

His head falls against her shoulder as she lets out the sweetest sound he's heard in years. It's a sound remembers, and a sound that runs second only to the way her voice sounds with when she sings. It ran first for a while and still would if the way she sounded singing hadn't been the only thing that had gotten him through so much. The way she sounded, her voice, her star, it was the only thing he believed in. Everything he'd just made that belief stronger. And right now he wished it didn't because he just... He can't do this. It's not what he was looking for and he needs to try and leave again because now even more than ever he's just going to bring her down. Or back down at this point. He slides off of her. What he needed happened, not exactly the way he had it all worked out in his head but it happened. He can go on now and be as okay as he's going to be. So he needs to leave to because she doesn't need him. She never did and as much as he believes in her... As much as he's always believed in her, he should have known that this was a bad idea.

His attempt to roll towards the edge of the bed is met with a grip against his shoulder and a head on his chest. "You don't get to leave." Her voice is stern but still quiet and before he can respond her finger is on his lips again. "I don't care." She answers any response he could have before he's even had the chance to day the words. "You don't get to just leave this time."

He closes his eyes and sucks in a deep breath. He's expecting the flashes and the things that would make him want to run out her door before he had the chance to contaminate her life again. But it's just darkness. With his eyes closed all he sees is darkness and the feeling of Rachel's fingers gliding over his skin. She's still Rachel. She's still everything that's good in the world, even if the world is a little crazy, all wrapped up into one person. He never stopped believing in her. Maybe she can make him believe in the world again.


End file.
